


After Winter

by Kefalion



Series: All About Harry [11]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-24 01:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/933688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kefalion/pseuds/Kefalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every now and then Winter Solider is woken for a mission, but no one mentions the time he spent rouge, no one ever tells him that he managed to buid a life, get married and have a child.<br/>However the past has a way of catching up with you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Life could be absolutely wonderful; there was no doubt about it. But for it to be wonderful you had to have a life and James Barnes had the extreme luck of getting his back.

He had very few memories. He had no recollection of his childhood, all he knew was his mission and what he could do to get the wanted results. But as he got farther and farther away from Moscow on his latest mission to kill an English ex-Military man, he started to feel things. He began to want things.

At first it was just minor stuff, like deciding that he could take the afternoon off to do nothing more pressing than to sit in a café and have more than one second cup of coffee, and why not indulge in a strawberry tart while he was at it?

When he had woken up all that mattered had been the mission, but as he got closer to his target other things began to matter. He got a glimpse of what life could be like. The man had a family. He seemed to love them very much and James couldn't help but want the same for himself. A wife, children…  _A normal life_.

No more sneaking around. No more cold, empty beds. No more guns. And no more death.

Once the man was no longer breathing, lying cold on the floor, blood splattered on the wall behind him, James walked away, giving a silent promise that this death would be the last one at his hands.

ooooo

About a year later, at the beginning of summer was when he saw her for the first time. She was wearing a white dress. Her hair was long and deep red. Her face was angelic, as if carved by one of the masters of old. And her eyes were green, so  _very_  green. As soon as he saw her walking down the road in Hyde Park he knew that he wouldn't give up until she was his.

He'd hurried after her and without any fanfare he had asked her out. At first she had seemed startled, those green eyes growing large. Then she had smiled politely and gently turned him down.

He had insisted that she should give him a chance, following her through the park, determined to not let her get away.

"You haven't even told me your name, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome," she said, smiling as they reached the edge of the park.

"James," he said simply. Half a second later she had burst out laughing.

Later he had been told the story about that, about another dark haired James who wouldn't give up and he could appreciate the irony.

ooooo

They had gone on a date, which turned into several dates, and when autumn came and she had to go back to school, they both mourned their separation, promising to write.

His Lily was only seventeen years old, but he could wait. He had a life now, and waiting for the girl that was his perfect fit was not a problem.

The year went by; they met for Christmas and spent every minute that wasn't dedicated to family together.

Spring came and passed, with Lily's eighteenth birthday passing as well and then summer was upon them once more.

In early June, with flowers at their feet and a blue sky over their heads, back in Hyde Park where they'd first met, James proposed.

After Lily said yes, James became certain that he was living a dream. Things couldn't have been better.

They got married, Lily moved into his apartment as she continued to study. He loved his wife very much and she loved him back. It didn't matter that they had to eat lentils and beans several times a week to get by on the lousy income he made as a cabdriver. They were in love and love can get you to the moon and back. Things were simple and they required little else than each other.

But as time went by, he grew complacent. As with the memories of his life before the last mission, the memories of Russia and what he had been required to do, faded away, meaning little when he was so surrounded by love and contentment.

ooooo

"I'm pregnant," Lily whispered one night in early December the following year when they lay cuddled up together in bed.

"Really?" he asked, feeling a grin spreading across his face.

"Yes," she said, smile evident in her voice. "You're gonna be a father. Daddy James."

He pulled Lily closer in his arms, kissing her lips, trying to convey the feeling of happiness that was spreading through him. "I love you so much," he said, kissing her again.

"I love you too."

ooooo

They were sitting in the kitchen, silently watching the rain that fell outside their window when Lily spoke.

"If it's a boy I want to call him Harry."

James smiled at her and the out of nowhere statement. "Oh, you've already had time to think about that?"

"Hmm," she hummed in affirmative answer.

"And if it's a girl?"

"If it's a girl, then you can decide the name."

James smiled.

ooooo

Before he got to see her belly grow, his old life caught up to him. He was driving his taxi when the client that got in brought up a gun.

"You knew we would find you," the man said.

"Get out of my car," James snarled.

"Your car," the man laughed. "How deluded you have become, Winter Soldier. No, this little play of yours is over. It's time to take your final bow to the audience and leave the scene."

He'd fought for all he was worth, but there isn't much you can do against slowly spreading gas that flows into your lungs until you lose consciousness.

He didn't wake up again for a very long time, and when he did, the memories of the years spent away from his oppressors were gone.

ooooo

"He'll be back," Lily insisted.

James Potter sighed. "It's been four months now, Lils." He was tired at seeing Lily like this, always cooped up in the apartment Barnes and she had shared. She had no colour in her cheeks anymore and her eyes no longer sparkled. He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard her laugh.

"He'll be back," she repeated, hand pressed at her stomach.

"I'm sure he will." He'd be there for her until then, he knew that she would never love him, but he couldn't help but love her. And Barnes was a good man, a man he had begun to consider as a friend, though he had hated him in the beginning for stealing away Lily's heart. He would not let either of them or their child down.

ooooo

Winter Soldier saw his opportunity and without care for the group of teens that was just a few feet away, walking in their direction he pointed his gun at Captain America.

The blond man noticed him instantly and tensed, ready to move, then his eyes grew wide, surprise showing on his face. "B-Bucky?" he stammered.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" Winter Soldier asked of the leathercoat wearing blond. Before the man had time to answer one of the teens that had been walking passed them was standing between them, and Winter Soldier refocused on him, sighing lightly. He had hoped for no complications. It should be simple. Appear at the right time, take his aim and shoot.

"Get out of the way kid," he said, keeping his finger on the trigger. After all it was only the matter of having to use two bullets instead of one.

"No way," the teen said defiantly, sticking out his chin.

Winter Soldier stared him down, taking him in and assessing him. Tall, rather slight, but with the potential to fill out his frame with muscles in a few years time, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, dark hair, strong jaw in a narrow face, and eyes that were spitting defiance. Green,  _green_  eyes.

"Lily." He didn't realize that he had spoken the name. The barrel of the gun pointed to the ground.

Memories came flooding back. Walks in Hyde Park. Missions given to him in Russia. A small kid with asthma who wouldn't let that stop him from standing up to people. His wife and their unborn child. Assassinations. World War II. Steve.

"Oh my God," he gasped, having fallen to his knees. He looked back up, seeing Steve, his stubborn, foolish and brave friend looking at him with a worried expression. He turned to the kid; the young man with Lily's eyes, and… and… his face. "Harry?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 20th August 2013  
> This story was very simply written. It was nice trying a new style, a style that didn't take nearly as much effort as the way I usually write and I was able to write it up in one go. I know it ends rather abruptly, but I decided to keep it like that. I will probably continue it at some point, but I can't tell you when.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	2. Chapter 2

The boy, his son,  _Harry_  was staring at him, just as intensely Bucky was staring at him. And wasn't that weird. He once more thought of himself as Bucky. For so long he had been no one, just a weapon for some anonymous, faceless person or organization to point at whatever target they saw fit. And during a period of time, now nearly two decades in the past, he had been James. James Barnes, without the nickname of his youth or the memories of his time in the army or his childhood in Brooklyn. He had been James Barnes the man running from a shady past and the man with a menial job as a taxi driver. But also the man with a wife that made everything worth it because she was a woman who accepted him for who he was without ever questioning him. He had been a random John Doe on the street, a young man with a future and a family on the way.

It had been an illusion. His past had caught up to him, pulling him away without a chance to say goodbye and now his past was truly getting to him. All of the memories of the different people he had been mixing together in a swirl. Phantom pain was travelling through his arm. The arm that hadn't been flesh and blood for over half a century, the arm that he hadn't been able to explain to his wife when she had wondered, because he couldn't remember, and now he wished it was still so.

Falling from the train had been bad, though it had nothing on the landing or the time that followed. Being revived after his fall and having the arm that had only been tatters replaced was a memory tinted with excruciating pain.

His memories would have to wait though. There were questions in a pair of green eyes waiting for an answer, and he was obliged to provide them.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. "How do you know my name? How do you know my mother's name?"

Steve was watching the interaction between them looking like he didn't know what to do. Initially the man would have wanted to step between them, probably hating that someone would get in harms way to protect him now that he could protect himself, he had after all hated it before he was enhanced by the serum.

Bucky wondered what kind of person Harry was. Brave and foolish it seemed, to have stepped between an assassin and his target. How much like himself when he was young was this boy? And how much like Lily? He wanted to find out. He needed to know what had happened to them both.

Bucky got to his feet, letting the gun lie where he had dropped it. "I used to know your mother, many years ago," he said, in a voice that may have been a bit choked up.

"Are you..?" Harry asked, eyes flicking around, taking in all the people that were watching and resting a bit longer on the group of teens he had separated from when the confrontation began.

"Am I what?" Bucky wanted the question to be,  _are you my father?_ But he knew it wasn't, this was something else. Then it clicked as more memories fell into place. A scrap of parchment lying in the sun under the window. An owl swooping through the sky. Green flames in the grate. Lily, holding a magic wand and showing him that magic was real, saying " _James, I'm a witch!_ " and him accepting her for all that she was. It was all he could do, when she had done the same for him.

"No," he answered his son, "I am not."

"But you know?"

"I know."

Steve walked up to him now. "What happened to you?" he asked in a low voice. "I thought you were dead."

He turned to look at his long time friend. "For all that matters I was. And you? You are supposed to be dead as well."

"For all that matters I was," Steve said bashfully, reusing Bucky's words, looking more like how he had been before he became taller than Bucky, before became a commanding officer.

"I think we need to catch up, but not here, there will be eyes watching and it is not safe."

Harry had been listening to them, a frown marring his forehead which held an oddly shaped scar. "Can I see you again?" he asked. "I would like to know more about how you knew my mum and…" Harry hesitated, biting his lower lip.

"I would prefer if you could come with me now," Bucky replied, "if it is not possible then I will understand."

His son looked around at the group of teenagers and sought out the adult amongst them locking eyes. "I'll ask," he said.

"Who is the boy?" Steve asked when Harry had walked away.

"A piece of my past." Bucky sighed. "Steve, he's my son. I was being brainwashed and seeing both you and him must have snapped something in my mind, because I can remember everything now. Some years ago I broke free temporarily. I couldn't remember everything, but I built a new life, I got married, then I was ripped away. I have never seen him before, but you can see it can you not?"

Steve was looking at Harry now. "He does look like you," he said softly. "Do you think he knows?"

"No." He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. It was long he noted. Reaching his chin. He had never voluntarily kept it that long. And as he scratched at his eye his fingers came back smudged with black. Right, the paint. What had he become? "I don't know."

Harry returned with a man by his side, a man with amber eyes. The man took one look at Bucky and his eyes grew wide. "Barnes? Is that you?" he asked.

"Lupin?" Bucky said, with the same amount of surprise in his tone. He hadn't known the man well, but he had been a friend of Lily's and they had met a few times, he had aged but it was unmistakably him.

"You know each other too?" Harry asked, gaze switching between them, scrutinizing their expressions.

"Yes," Remus said slowly, "I suppose we did. What happened to you?"

"It is a long story."

"Can I go with them?"

Remus gave him a long look.

"It should be relatively safe," he told the wizard.

"If Harry's hurt-"

"He won't be. If I cannot be trusted, then Steve can."

Remus looked at Steve, who while at first appeared uncomfortable, soon met his eyes stoically. "I would not allow harm to come to this young man," he said. With his combed blond hair, leather jacket and checkered shirt, Steve looked as if he came from a different decade, he also held himself with calm authority, all of it ensuring trustworthiness.

"I think I recognize you," Remus said slowly.

"You might," Steve said, cheeks growing a bit pink.

"Captain America?"

"That's who he is," Bucky nodded.

Remus eyes which had relaxed became wide again. "Okay," he muttered. "I sense a very long story here. I will accompany my group back to our hotel where a different teacher will be able to keep an eye on them, after that I should like to join you."

"Of course. I hate to ask you, but Steve do you have anywhere we could go?"

"I have an apartment, which we can use. The address is 304 Second Street, Brooklyn."

"Thank you. I'll find it." Remus nodded. "Don't do anything stupid Harry."

"Would I?"

"Yes."

"I'm of age, now Professor, I can handle myself."

"I'll hold you to that. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I might be able to fill in some of the gaps in this story."

"I'd appreciate it, Lupin," Bucky said.

"Good, I'll see you soon then." The man turned and walked back to the group of teenagers, rounding them up and hurrying away.

"I just realized that I don't know either of your names," Harry said bashfully, looking at them with those green eyes of his.

"I am Steve Rogers," Steve said, reaching out his hand, when Bucky wasn't immediately forthcoming with his name. Harry didn't know his name? This was all so very wrong. The two of them shook hands.

"Harry," said the teen.

"It was a very brave thing you did, to step in front of me, though it was also stupid. You could have been hurt."

"Well, that's me," Harry said with a casual shrug, "and if worse had come to worse, I'd have… you know," he gave Bucky a pointed look.

"I see," he said softly. He didn't know how to feel. Some strange sense of pride was filling him, but also anger at the boy's reckless behaviour. From a tactical point of view it was the purest form of stupidity. Harry hadn't known how dangerous he was. He could fire a gun, far faster than a wizard would be able to deflect with a shield. At least an untested teenager. A battle hardened magic user might have been able to put up a fight, but that wouldn't have been enough either, not for long had the Winter Soldier wanted to kill you.

"Shall we shake hands?" Harry asked with a smile, showing that he had been waiting for a moment while Bucky was occupied with his thoughts.

"James Barnes," he said, gripping his son's hand. His hand was enfolded in a strong grip, stronger than he had expected. Tan fingers wrapped around his own callused ones. "Also known as Bucky." He smiled tightly. It was strange to be a stranger to your own child. A child he had only ever known encased in his mother's womb. Yet here he was now, stood in front of him as a young man.

"Harry Potter," he said smiling back.

Bucky's world narrowed. Potter. Harry Potter. He imagined how it must have happened. Him gone without a trace. Lily heartbroken. Who would have been there for her? Her friends from school. The man who had repeatedly tried to win her heart, but who had settled for friendship in the end. A man he had respected. His son now bore that other man's name. He thought James Potter was his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 26th March 2014
> 
> I'll start by saying that I've not seen Captain America 2 yet. It premiered in Sweden today, and I'll go see it tomorrow. If I have any details wrong because of this, that's how it'll have to be. I predict that I'll be writing up a chapter or two rather quickly once I've seen the film. In any case, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you thought and what you'd like to see next in this story.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this Author have seen the newest Captain America film, there are NO spoilers, I repeat NO spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier!

"Are you okay, Buck?" Steve said. His voice reached Bucky as through a dense mist.

"No," he answered honestly, a couple of beats later then what would be acceptable in normal conversation. "It's all so much. I'd… I think I'll need a moment to catch my bearings. You two go ahead. I'll follow, just… I'll say more once we get to your place."

"Are you sure?" Steve's tone was concerned. It felt sort of nice to have someone care about him. He hadn't had that since Lily. Harry was also looking worried; a frown was bringing his eyebrows together.

"Yeah. Perhaps we could walk. It'll take some time, but I think I need it."

"Is that okay with you Harry?"

The teen nodded.

"Okay then."

"Was it something I said?" Harry asked hesitantly, looking into Bucky's eyes.

He couldn't answer. It felt as if his tongue had tied itself into a knot. James Potter. How had that happened? Why had Lily let it happen? He clenched and unclenched the metal of his left arm. He was used to it, and he was not.

His memories were still strange and they were not completely coming together. Things from before he had fallen were relatively clear, only hidden by the cobwebs of time, rather than by some other alteration which the people who had captured him had used. The time after they'd retrieved him was a blur of pain and training. The exact events were impossible to distinguish while the skills he had acquired were clear and sharp.

The memories from his time with Lily were also relatively clear, only faded by time. What had happened since, he could scarcely say. He knew that he had been out on missions. He knew that they had made him kill again, but if asked he wouldn't be able to say much about his targets or about his employees. Perhaps that was a security measure they had had in place for an eventuality such as this. If he had managed to be free once, they must have known that it was possible that it would happen again.

"He will tell you when he is ready Harry," Steve said reassuringly, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. It was wrong. It should be him comforting Harry. It should be him taking care of the boy. He was his son! But he wasn't in his right mind. He was far from it. And he knew that one some level he was grateful that Steve was there to pick up whatever pieces he was bound to be dropping.

After looking at him quizzically one more time at the duo consisting of two of the three most important people in his life, they began to move. He followed a few steps behind. Far enough behind so that it didn't appear like they were together, but close enough so that he could hear all that they were saying.

"Professor Lupin called you Captain America, I'm not one of those people who keep up with things, I'm very far from it in fact, but even I know that name. I thought you died at the end of the Second World War."

"You might say that I did," Steve answered. "However I wasn't completely dead. I crashed into the ice of northern Canada and the cold preserved me until they were able to find me about a year back."

Bucky had some vague recollection of having been told about what had happened to Captain America. He had not cared all that much. He hadn't remembered that the man behind the name was his best friend, and yet they had used Steve's demise to taunt him. He hadn't cared when he learnt that Captain America was alive either. He was just a target. A human with a pulse, a condition he was assigned to change. Now he was feeling a bit of joy. His friend was still here. They were together again, something which should be impossible.

"I can't imagine how it would be to come back from something like that," Harry said softly.

"It's not been easy, but I find that people are still much the same, and a lot of the people I have met have been accommodating, doing their best to help me find a place here."

"It's not that easy though, is it?"

"You speak like you know something."

"Experiences change you and people who have not gone through the same can't understand even if they try to. I suppose I can relate a bit."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Harry shrugged. "It's not your fault."

Bucky could not see, but he could imagine the way Steve's lips would tighten to a thin line of dismay. He never liked suffering and if he could he would shoulder everyone's pain, and that desire had only grown once he went through project rebirth and got the physical ability to do something about it. "Perhaps not, but I don't wish had experiences on anyone. Sometimes you have to fight; people might not give you a choice when they threaten your freedom. That doesn't mean that I believe it to be a good thing."

Harry nodded. "Some things are worth it all, worth fighting for, worth dying for, but that only makes it a bit easier to bear."

"I can't help but notice that you sound like some of the people I've met who are war veterans. How old are you, Harry?"

"Eighteen."

Eighteen. The number echoed through Bucky's mind. Had it truly been that long? It didn't feel like it had been that long since he last saw Lily. As far as he was concerned it might just have been a few months. He had to know what had happened. Would she care to meet him? He didn't know. With only the vague recollections he had of what he had done during these years should be enough to discourage anyone, himself included. She would have aged. He was fairly certain that he had not. Did they have anything in common anymore? Had she moved on and forgotten him.  _James Potter._  He clenched his jaw.

"Correct me if I am mistaken, you sound like you are from England. I wasn't aware that England had been involved in any open conflicts since the last world war."

"Yes I'm from England. About what I've been through… It's a bit more complicated." Harry turned his head and looked at Bucky. There was a question in his eyes. It wasn't difficult to tell what he wanted to know. Could Steve be told about magic? Because surely whatever conflict was haunting his son must have been magical in origin and to be able to explain what had happened Harry would have to reveal magic.

There had been a war brewing when he had been together with Lily and it didn't surprise him that things would have been bad, that they would have escalated to something resembling war. What bothered him was that Harry had been involved. He was just a child. He shouldn't behave like a war veteran as Steve had compared him to. He should have been there to protect his family. He would have been able to do it too, with or without any magic at his disposal.

The answer to weather Steve could be told or not was yes, but it would have to wait until they were alone. He would not be responsible for his son breaking an international law simply became they were careless and allowed someone to overhear. He himself had committed enough crimes for a thousand people. "Once we get to Steve's apartment," he said in a voice which was only loud enough to carry. Harry nodded.

"So, that topic's off then," Steve said lightly. "Could I perhaps ask what brings you to New York just in time to try and take a bullet for me?"

Harry stumbled slightly over his own feet. Perhaps the gravity of what could have potentially happened was beginning to sink in. Perhaps he was realizing that he was walking with two unknown men, one who had tried to kill the other. The young man glanced over his shoulder again, peering at Bucky. His gaze roved from the dark makeup around his eyes to the shiny metal of his left arm. Something about what he saw must have satisfied him, because he turned back around and answered Steve's question. "I'm here with the school I go to. It's a class trip for the students who attend their last year."

"What have you seen so far then?"

"The usual stuff I suppose. We've been to Times Square, Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, Central Park and a few other places. We've only been here three days though so there's a lot left to see."

"I understand that. It is a big City and it's only gotten larger since I knew it."

"I reckon that you're at least used to the height of the buildings on Manhattan, many of them are rather old. We don't really have anything like that back home. Well we do have a fair share of skyscrapers, but not put together in such a dense area."

"Having grown up in the City you do get a bit used to it, but I still find them impressing."

They continued to walk and Bucky alternated between listening to them talk, trying to get to know Steve again as well as learning everything he could about his son, and getting drowned in memories.

He watched how Harry walked; with his back straight, and long strides. He took in how Harry spoke; fairly freely, only hesitant every now and then when Bucky could tell that he had to avoid mentioning magic. Harry did not mention his mother though, or the man he must have believed to be his father, or whom at the very least was a father figure in his life. He spoke more about his friends, saying that his friend Hermione nearly had had to be dragged away when they had visited the library. He mentioned his other friend Ron and that he was close to his friend's family. That was strange and a bit worrying. All of it pointed towards something Bucky didn't want to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 28th March 2014
> 
> Hey there! Here's a chapter as promised. I knew that I would be inspired and I kind of am. But the inspiration I got will be better applied to another story I'm writing (it's not posted yet). I've gone very AU with this story. I rather knew that from the beginning. I won't be able to apply what happened in Captain America 2, at least not much so this story should remain spoiler free. If this changes I'll let you know at the top of the chapter where it applies. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, that you'll let me know your thoughts and that I'll have a new chapter ready soon!
> 
> PS. I really enjoyed the film and I'm sure a lot of you will as well when you see it. If any of my fellow Europeans have seen it, I'm up for talking a bit about it.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	4. Chapter 4

Small talk filled up the entire walk to Steve's apartment. Bucky tried his best to listen, but he knew that he missed at least half of what was said. He was too lost in his regained memories.

ooooo

"Do you need any help?" he asked the scrawny blond boy who was sitting on the ground at the mouth of an alleyway, his head leant back against the brick wall, a handkerchief pressed at a bleeding nose.

The boy looked in his direction, shoulders tensing up.

"Buck," he said, relief palpable as he caught sight of him.

"Hey, Steve." Bucky slid down the wall to sit next to his friend. "Who was it this time?"

"No one."

"This  _No One_  has a mean punch."

"I can take care of myself," the smaller boy said sulkily, his words muffled by the fabric he was holding in front of his mouth and nose.

"I know you can, but I still wish that you would allow me to help you more often. You don't have to fight alone." Bucky took out his own handkerchief. "Here, use mine, yours is all bloody."

Steve might have glared at him, but he accepted the clean piece of cloth and pressed it against his nose. "It's mostly stopped," he said.

"So it has," Bucky agreed. Agreeing was always the way to go with Steve.

"You know, one day, I will be the one who rescues you."

"I'm sure you will, Steve."

"I mean it."

"So do I."

ooooo

War wasn't as glorified as he had believed. He had been stupid to think that it was glamorous at all. The training should have clued him in, but it hadn't. He'd still been all about the girls the uniform gave him, and the idea that fighting for his country was the highest calling he could follow in troubled times. The attack on Pearl Harbor had convinced him of this and as far as he was concerned it had only become better once he assumed the title of Sergeant. Sergeant James Barnes had a nice ring to it.

But being captured by HYDRA gave him a different perspective. Some might have called it a harsh wakeup call. For days which never seemed to end he was tasked to design rockets, what little know-how he possessed being used. It tore at him to do as asked; knowing what he rockets would be used for, but he had no choice. Death could possibly be his escape; however he wasn't maudlin enough yet to contemplate it. He wanted to live.

Eventually he had no longer been able to perform to the standard they demanded and he was locked away in isolation. If doing as ordered by their enemies had been bad, being separated from his comrades was worse.

And then the experimentations had begun. His situation was as far removed from glorified as it could possibly get. Cold. Filth. Pain. It was inhumane. Thankfully whatever drugs they were using on him, made him feel rather out of it and he had never been able to remember clearly what they had put him through, not even whilst it was happening.

Even if his mind had been in a strange place, he could still remember something about it though. He remembered the day when Steve had barged into that room and released him from the bonds holding him captured.

"Now you have saved me too," he had told his friend afterwards.

ooooo

His second date with Lily had been about as successful as their first meeting, meaning that things had been a bit awkward. She had resisted his charms as he tried too hard, but that had somehow endeared him to her and in the end she had agreed to a third meeting. It had also been the first time she noticed his metal arm.

Usually he covered it up, and with the excuse of English weather it was no problem to wear gloves for most of the year, this day though it was swelteringly hot and even wearing a thin, long-sleeved shirt and matching light gloves made Bucky overheated. Lily had of course noticed the sweat that kept on trickling down his back, making the cotton of the shirt stick to his skin.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in just a t-shirt?" she'd asked.

"No," he'd answered shortly, determined to find something else to talk about.

"What harm could it be? At least take of your gloves… Oh." She had looked horrified with herself as she came to a realization. He knew that she must have reached the wrong conclusion and if he had been smart he would have left it at that. He would have pretended to be embarrassed because of some skin disorder, heavy scarring or the like. He didn't think anyone should be ashamed of something like that, something you couldn't control. But sometimes it was easier to hide and she would have accepted it, but he didn't think he could lie to her and if he wished to keep her, honesty was paramount. He knew that he wouldn't be able to share everything, but he should not hesitate to share what he could.

"I'm so sorry," she'd continued as she'd seen his stony expression, "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's nothing like that," he'd reassured her, forcing his lips into an easy smile, "though I have as good a reason for wearing the gloves." He'd proceeded to remove the glove on his right hand, the hand which was normal, not a monstrosity of metal and cybernetics. "Are you sure that you want to see?"

Lily had bit her bottom lip, eyelashes moving against summer tanned skin. "Only if you want me to," she'd answered looking up at him with an expression that told a tale of trust and acceptance. He had removed the second glove.

ooooo

"James, what is that?" Lily had asked when she came to meet him in the hallway of their small flat. She had looked critically at the overfull shopping bag he was carrying.

"Call it a shopping spree to celebrate."

She'd taken the bag from him, picking up toys for young children as well as clothes in bright colours. "Why?" she had asked. "This must have cost nearly a month's pay for you. You always say that we need to be careful with our finances. You do this for me, so that I can continue to study."

Bucky had smiled before he'd taken the soft bear from her hands and pressed a kiss to her brow. "I've been putting a bit away for some time now, saving for the day when we would start a family. I didn't think it would be so soon, but I'm prepared. I can't wait to be a father."

ooooo

Only he had never been given the chance. The monsters who had manipulated him into becoming a killing machine had come a-knocking and now Harry's childhood was over. His son was all grown up and from what little he had heard the years had not been kind. He wondered how different it would have been if he had been around.

Would Harry have grown up to be a completely different person had he not disappeared without a trace before the boy's birth? It was impossible to tell, he only knew that he would spend a lot of time on the  _what if's_.

Then again, if it hadn't been for his fall from the train in 1943 he never would have met Lily. He would possibly have died during some other part of the war, or he would have grown to become an old man who never would have gotten married to a young, intelligent woman like his Lily.

Their long walk, where the stream of conversation from the two men in front of him nearly hadn't abated for a single moment, came to an end as they reached Steve's place of residence. On the porch outside of number 304 sat Remus Lupin.

"If I had known that you would take so long to get here, I wouldn't have hurried so much," he said with a hint of accusation, though it was barely noticeable, which wasn't surprising as it was said by a man who normally was very genial.

"I'm sorry, Lupin. It's my fault. I realized that I needed time to think."

"Then it might have been for the best. You alright there, Harry?"

"I'm good. Nothing  _unsavoury_  happened."

"Just had to check."

"Do you want to ask a security question too?" Harry asked pointedly with clear exasperation.

"Perhaps we should. Who was I with the night before your seventeenth birthday when we moved you from your aunt and uncle's?"

"George Weasley. What did I call you when you came to Grimmauld Place at the end of last summer?"

"A coward and you were right."

The conversation bothered Bucky. Things must have been worse back in England than he had imagined, and his son seemed to have been in the thick of it. And why had he been with his uncle and aunt? He couldn't imagine Petunia taking Harry in for any reason. Something was very wrong and he was getting increasingly worried. He was worried for Harry and Lily and for how he might react if the worst… No he wouldn't think it, not until he had to.

"Now that we know that you are you and I'm me, maybe we can get inside? I hate to admit it, but my feet aren't used to this much walking. Whose bright idea was it that we should walk between all our destinations, professor?"

"I believe that Miss. Granger had something to do with that and Professor McGonagall thought it was a good idea."

"Figures."

As they spoke Steve had fished out a key and unlocked the door. "Come on inside, we're going up three floors."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 29th March 2014
> 
> There we have the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you thought and I'll write up the next chapter.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	5. Chapter 5

As they got comfortable in Steve's apartment the tension grew to become thick enough to cut with a knife. Steve busied himself by giving himself the task of providing them with something to drink. He avoided the awkwardness by having coffee made for everyone, struggling with a fancy espresso maker and only ended up adding to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

The two wizards looked on with some amusement as his friend got increasingly embarrassed and peeved. Bucky supposed that they wouldn't be of much help as people with magic tended to be ignorant regarding muggle appliances, but his son surprised him by getting up from the kitchen table where they had settled, to fix the machine, deftly pressing the right buttons and having the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the room in no time.

Once they each had a cup of coffee there was nothing more to be done about delaying the conversation that they had gathered for. Bucky was feeling a lot of apprehension, and despite this he was the first one who spoke.

"How is Lily?" he asked. It might have been a direct question, still it was innocent enough. The problem was that Harry's face took on a confused expression and Remus looked acutely pained.

"You don't know?" Harry asked tentatively.

"What is it I'm supposed to already know?"

"James," Remus spoke up, "I have no idea what happened to you or why you have been gone these past eighteen years, but you knew about the danger that was growing steadily."

"Yes."

"Lily was targeted. I am very sorry to say this, but you need to know and I see no other way than to be blunt about it. The man who targeted her was really after Harry. He wanted to kill Harry."

Bucky was beginning to feel anger. Some idiotic wizard had dared to try and hurt his family! He should have been there. He should have protected them. However Harry was sitting there, across the table from him, so things must have been okay.

"Lily wouldn't let him. But when You-Know-Who wanted to kill someone they never survived. That is; until Harry. She gave up her life so that he could live."

The world didn't end. Bucky knew that. At the same time it did. The earth split. It shook and collapsed, crumbling to dust. The sky turned dark as the sun went out, but he was still blinded by its brilliant light so he could not see the stars. All sound went dead. There was only a low buzzing inside of his skull. He felt everything and nothing at all. Numbness and pain. Cold and the heat of rage. It was impossible. Lily could not be gone. She had been life.

ooooo

The first time he saw her Lily had been walking through the park. It was one of his favourite memories, because it held the moment where his path had changed. The moment when everything had turned for the better.

To another person she was just a young girl, one among many. To him she stood out of the crowed, glowing with life. He thought that she belonged in the park, more akin to the flowers than to the humans. Her name expressed the same sentiment.

So full of life under the sun, her face always searching for it, allowing her green eyes to shine and her red hair to share it's fire.

When he got the chance to know her his belief was only strengthened. Within this slim human female burnt the fire of life. A bonfire of heat and energy hidden within her heart and revealed to everyone who had the sense to look.

She had been as fierce as she was full of love and laugher. She had brought him back to life and she had been carrying a life they had created together.

ooooo

He was beginning to feel again. He was burning within. He didn't know what the feeling was, but he encouraged it, he told it to consume him and then it would all be over.

SMACK!

His head reared back, his cheek ached. He blinked stupidly.

Steve was looming over him, face scrounge up. He couldn't tell the emotion that was the underlying cause. "Breath!" the man yelled. "You have to breath!"

So that was why he was burning inside. His lungs were demanding oxygen. Huh. He drew in a breath and felt himself go light headed. The burning sensation dissipated with each gulping breath he took. It didn't matter how much air he pulled in however, he still felt like a drowning man, lost at a rough and dark sea with a storm whipping about, stirring up waves the size of mountains.

Steve was a steady presence beside him, he knew it, but he did not feel it. He could hear them talking, he heard the words, but they didn't register.

"You have to tell me what's wrong with him!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Harry. It's complicated."

"I'm fed up with lies! I won't take it any more! I've been lied to before when it's important. I've been told that it's not the right time for me to know! If you know what's going on, either of you, you have to tell me!"

Steve shifted. His body vibrated, it meant that he was talking now. "Harry, I haven't known you long, but if it is something I don't like it is lies and being withheld information. So I will tell you what I know. This man sitting here was and still is my best friend. We knew each other as children."

"But, you're old! Eh, no offence. Neither of you look old. How is that?"

"You know that I am what is called a super soldier. It allowed me to survive; it has kept me from aging. Something similar has been done to Bucky. He was captured at one point and the Germans experimented on him. Then during a mission in 1943 he fell from a train, it was high on a bridge. We all thought him dead. I thought him dead until I saw him earlier today. You know that he recognized you, that he knew your name and your mother's name. When you asked Mr. Lupin permission to come with us I asked him who you were to him. He told me that after the accident he was brainwashed, but at one point he was free. He was married. He told me that you are his son."

"No."

"I can only tell you what I know."

"Remus? Is this true? Is this how you know him?"

"Harr-"

" _Is it_?"

"Yes."

"Why has no one ever told me?"

"It was a difficult time. James, James Potter that is, always loved Lily. I remember how put out he was when we came back for our last year at school and she told him that she had a boyfriend now and that he shouldn't bother. He wasn't happy about it, but eventually he got over his own stubbornness and decided that he'd rather have her as a friend than not at all. James Barnes was a muggle, but Lily loved him."

"I…"

"I'm sorry Harry."

"I don't understand. Why? Just why?"

"When Lily was carrying you, your father disappeared. No one knew where he was and we had no way of finding him. Believe me when I say that we tried. Lily was inconsolable. James Potter was there for her and with Voldemort growing stronger for each day they believed that they would be safer, that you would be safer if everyone believed that they were together, that James Potter was your father."

"And just look how well that turned out! They are both dead!"

"That was uncalled for, Harry."

"No it bloody wasn't! Voldemort never would have targeted them if they hadn't done this! He never would have cared about the child of some muggle and muggleborn witch! The prophecy specified a child born to parents who had defied him! We could all have been safe! I wouldn't have needed to live with the Dursleys! I'd still have my mum! She'd be alive and I…"

"I know it isn't fair. They only did what they thought was best. Yelling won't help anything."

"Do not tell me not to yell! All my life I thought my parents were James and Lily Potter! It's been one big lie! You told me I look like my dad! You all did!"

"You do." Steve was vibrating again. It was irritating. It forced him to acknowledge the people around him. "You do look like him."

"I-"

"I understand that you've been through a tough time, Harry. So has my friend. I ask you to give him a chance."

"I- I know it's not his fault. I can see that. I just… I don't know."

"I think you can help each other."

Blessed silence followed. It was strange that it could be no sound at the same time as the storm raged. Could a person feel so many conflicting emotions at the same time? He hadn't thought so. He was being proven wrong. It had been easier being the weapon people called the Winter Soldier. Then he hadn't felt anything at all. There had only been cold calculations and quiet satisfaction at a job well done. It was uncomplicated. Perhaps that was to prefer.

"Hey," a soft voice was speaking. It was directed at him. He felt hands touching his face, forcing his head to tilt up. His open eyes focused. Green. It always came down to that colour. Eyes the greenest of colours. Eyes like Lily's.

"Harry," he whispered. He couldn't give up. His son was still alive. He was right there. "I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Me too."

And then the tears came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 6th April 2014
> 
> I think you are aware of the unusual style of this story by now. I'm not. It's strange and rather nice to write like this. I've recently started the literature part of the English Course I'm taking at University. I'm starting to appreciate to author's we read more as I myself write this. It has a certain charm.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Let me know what you thought and I'll try to type up the next chapter quickly.
> 
> PS. I begun to get a bit teary eyed as I wrote the last bit. Oh, my.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	6. Chapter 6

The salty tears rolling down his cheeks silently had been replaced by prattling of scalding water from the showerhead in Steve's bathroom. The change had happened both because he needed to flee, to be alone with his thoughts and because he felt an urgent need to cleanse himself of the deeds he had been forced to do. Getting rid of the dark makeup around his eyes was a start, a first step towards getting clean. The rest would take more than water. A lot more. Perhaps more than there was.

As he allowed the water to sooth his body and mind, trying to only concentrate on the feeling then and there. Bucky could also vaguely hear that the discussion in the room next over was going strong. He could understand that Harry was upset. His life had been turned around. Bucky knew what it was like. It would have been good to be able to blame someone. A concrete person and not just ghosts and shadows without names or faces.

He didn't know who to blame for what he had become, or who to thank for actually giving him a second chance at life, however cursed an existence it had been for the most part. He knew that the ones who had retrieved him from the bottom of that narrow and snowy canyon a lifetime ago had been the Russians. Who had followed was unclear. The Soviet Union was gone and someone else had found him and deemed him a useful resource. These people had no names and no faces. He hadn't needed to know. Having him know could make him a liability and a gun was not supposed to have a mind.

"I don't understand any of this!" he heard Harry say in a loud voice, the sound of it carrying. He didn't understand either. His,  _their_ , situation was something on a completely different level compared to the ordinary.

_His friend who had been a scrawny child, science had turned into the perfect soldier._

_War had crippled him and the enemies had brought him back without his mind._

_He had regained his mind, built a new life._

_His wife was a witch, magic was real and it was beautiful, but with a dark backside._

_The enemies re-emerged from the shadows, stealing him away and wiping away his memories._

_Years of darkness, of callus murders, cold and destroyed thoughts._

_Life brought back by green eyes._

His son's green eyes. The thought and the image came up in his mind again and again. Green eyes had saved him twice so how could he not worship them? He was already beginning to feel more for the boy. From the moment he realized who Harry was and he regained his memories he had been filled with unconditional love and the urge to protect, now that was being consolidated with true affection and pride.

The way Harry had been able to put aside his own emotions, the turmoil that was brewing within him and brave the storm was worth admiration. Bucky wished that he had been able to snap out of his own shock that much sooner, so that it would have been him who could comfort his son instead of the other way around.

In the end he believed that it had worked out well. Harry was no longer a babe protected by his mother's womb. He was a young man jaded by a life that had been harsher than any father would wish, and that was something Bucky had been able to see without being told any details. It had been  _right_  that they had comforted each other. It was not to be a one way relationship. Give and take.  _Give_ without restraint when needed _._ Prepared to  _accept_ what was offered in return.

Tears had been cried on both sides and no words had needed to be spoken as father and son met each other for the first time, a meeting that had nothing to do with hands being shaken, names being exchanged or platitudes muttered. It was a meeting on a different level. A meeting of two people who had unconsciously been searching for family since it was taken from them.

Bucky didn't know how long he stayed under the spray of the water, only that by the time he felt as if he was able to face the people waiting outside once more, the water had run cold. He still took his time, perusing the image in the mirror. He resembled the man he remembered more now than he had done when he stepped into this room. The dark shades around his eyes were gone, as was the heavy stubble on his chin. The hair was wrong however, too long, and dripping with water, which he couldn't be bothered to try and get rid off.

"Who are you?" he asked the reflection. It's only reply was a look of uncertainty.

He got into freshly laundered clothes that Steve had borrowed him, soft cotton in white and pale blue colours. Then there was nothing more keeping him.

He found the trio sitting where he had left them, slumped around the kitchen table with cold mugs of coffee. They were silent, and the feeling in the room was tense. Bucky cleared his throat awkwardly and gained their attention. "Does either one of you know how to cut hair? I'd really like to cut mine; it might help me feel a bit more like… me."

Steve was blank faced as he said this, Harry was frowning and Lupin looked contemplative.

"I can do it," the grown up wizard said. "I've cut my own hair many times and it's easy enough if you don't mind me using…" he trailed off and glanced uncertainly at Steve.

"Magic is fine," Bucky said in reply to the unvoiced inquiry. He didn't like the idea of beating around the bush and as far as he was concerned Steve was alright to know. He wanted Harry to be a part of his life, which meant magic, and he wanted his friend to be a part of it too. The captain may as well find out about it now. It would not become any easier for stalling.

"Magic?" the blond asked, his tone suggesting that he believed it to be code for something, a natural thing to believe however wrong founded it was.

"Is it wise to let him know?" Lupin asked, somewhat hesitantly. The Statute of Secrecy was surely on his mind.

"I trust him."

Those three words made Steve grin, his face lighting up brilliant like the sun. It was disconcerting. His reaction too was disconcerting. To see his friend smile as their relationship was affirmed should be a source of joy for him not a wrenching feeling in his gut. But they had been separated for so long. He didn't know Steve's full story, he could only imagine from what he knew about himself. He himself was an altogether different man than he had been when they knew each other. He may want to be the same Bucky he had been in Brooklyn. The same Sergeant Barnes who had been one of the members of the Howling Commandos.

He wasn't. He could never be. He had seen and done so much since then. Too much. He didn't think he could become that innocent again. But he could perhaps become the man he had been when he was with Lily. Then he had already lived as the Winter Soldier, it had been all he remembered, even if he had come to sense that all of it was wrong. If he had managed that then, when he had no good memories to solidify his quest for happiness, he could manage it again. Somehow. He had something to fight for. He cast a lingering glance at Harry. He had everything to fight for.

"I'll just go ahead and cut your hair then," Lupin said, drawing him back to the task at hand, no matter how menial it was.

"Please do," he said quietly, shuffling his feet feeling awkward again. Blood stained his hands, the real one and the metal one. They were red even though they were recently washed. He could see the stains of many dozen lives taken on those hands. How could he be placed in the domestic environment that was Steve's kitchen and expect to fit in?

The wizard took out his wand and steered the man whose hair he was about to cut to a chair, the movement once more drawing Bucky out of his dark thoughts.

Bucky regarded Steve as the wand was brandished and magic performed. Lupin seemed to keep an eye on the blond as well. The all American super soldier was watching as lengths of damp brown hair were cut and vanished with simple flicks of a wooden stick, his jaw agape in stupefaction and eyes beginning to shine with excited wonder.

When Bucky switched his gaze over to his son he noticed that the young man was nearly equally as enraptured by the simple show of magic as Steve. It was strange. There should be no need for a wizard of Harry's age to be intrigued by a simple magical haircut.

"I didn't know there was such a spell," Harry said idly, regarding the movements of Lupin's wand and listening to the muttered words of the enchantment. The simple statement made the wizard halt.

"Of course there is a spell for cutting hair," he said. "I'd had thought that you would have seen Mrs. Weasley perform it."

Bucky frowned. There was so much he didn't know. He had no idea who Mrs. Weasley was beyond some vague recognition of the name and an association with the colour of fire.

"Well, my aunt always cut my hair when I was younger," Harry muttered, "and she naturally didn't use magic." His tone was a bit darker here, and Bucky stiffened. His aunt. Petunia Dursley. He had no fond memories of the woman and it did not please him to hear that his son had had any interaction with Lily's sister.

"Then during the last year Hermione cut my hair," Harry continued. "I suppose she's never had to learn that particular spell, not having short hair herself and yeah. I bet that she'd love to learn it though."

"I expect so," Lupin said, a smile colouring his tone and continued with cutting Bucky's hair. One long wisp of brown hair after another disappearing. The image of the winter melting away.

But even during spring the frost can come and bite the first few flowers that brave through the crust of the earth searching for light.

"What was that about your aunt?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 25th April 2014
> 
> Took me a bit longer to get this done, but here it is. More introspective thoughts, but we are moving on with the story, things are being revealed ever so slowly. Two new things are out. Steve's encountered magic and Bucky's been alerted to the Dursleys' involvement in Harry's life. I hope you liked it, let me know what you thought!
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	7. Chapter 7

Harry's back stiffened. Bucky could see the tension in his the muscles of his shoulders and jaw, veins becoming taunt against the young man's slightly tanned skin.

"What has Petunia got to do with you?" he asked pointedly.

"She well..." Harry muttered, refusing to look at any of them. He looked beyond uncomfortable, fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric with sweat damp fingers. "She and her family took me in after my parents, eh, my mother and..." he was trailed off again as he didn't know how to name James Potter anymore. "I lived with them. That's all."

Bucky frowned. It didn't seem to be  _all_. "Why?" he asked. "Petunia didn't care for her sister. She wouldn't have been the first or even fifth choice of a guardian for you."

"Magic," Harry said with a shrug and as if that word was his salvation his face lit up. "It had to do with magic and protection but this conversation can wait. I think Steve would like an explanation."

Bucky was not about to forget the topic; however he too was reminded that Steve had only moments before been told about the existence of magic. Once glance at the Captain told him that his friend had not yet recovered from the chock. He was looking at them with glazed eyes and his mouth was open in a dumbfounded expression.

"Are you okay, Steve?" he asked.

Hearing his name was enough for the blond to get drawn out of his stupor. "I'm not sure," he said. "I- I don't feel like I deserve to be upset or surprised, not after what you two have been through today, but I would very much like an explanation. Just answer this for now: is magic real?"

"Yes," Harry said with a small smile. "I didn't believe it either at first when found out about it when I was eleven, but magic like in stories is very much real. Think old fairy tales and legends. The witch trials. All of it is founded in truth."

"How come the world doesn't know?"

"We are good at keeping hidden," Lupin said. "Harry mentioned the witch trials. Not many witches and wizards, as we call ourselves, died, but it did create a lot of fear and resentment. There was a large separatist movement and an international law called the Statue of Secrecy was created along with Ministries in different nations around the world to keep the existence of magic from being common knowledge."

Steve was frowning thoughtfully. "Was magic used during the Second World War?"

Harry shrugged. "I never paid attention in History of Magic," he admitted sheepishly, receiving a reproving look from Lupin. "And I don't think our teacher even has covered anything that has happened over the last hundred years. It's always the goblin rebellion of the 11th or 16th century and so on with him."

Lupin sighed and nodded. "Binns isn't a very good teacher; I'll admit that, he did the same while I was at Hogwarts. To answer your question, magic was used during both World Wars, not to any great extent though. What happened was that there was a magical war happening parallel to the one you fought in. Witches and wizards were battling against other witches and wizards, to busy to get involved with the struggle happening around them. Most witches and wizards are oblivious to the world around them, living in an isolated bubble."

Bucky came to think of something then. "Harry," he said, "when is your birthday?"

Harry looked bemused at the question. "July thirty-first."

"Why are you still in school then? Because that was why you were in New York was it not? This is a school trip. You turned eighteen before the school year began, you should have graduated from Hogwarts already."

"Eh," Harry shared a look with Lupin.

"You-Know-Who," the prematurely greying wizard said.

"What about him?" Bucky asked. He thought that it was more than enough that the man who was nothing more than a glorified terrorist had killed his wife. He didn't want to hear what else the man had done, but he needed to hear it. "What really happened when Lily was murdered?"

"It's a story that is well known in our world," Lupin said.

"But I do not know it," he insisted.

"Are you okay Harry?" Lupin said, as he looked away from the Soldier's piercing and accusing glare he had noticed that Harry looked tired. Bucky looked at the young man too, noticing the same and feeling the irritating drawing from him as it was overtaken by worry.

"I'm fine," he said none too convincingly.

"Tell me the truth."

"It's just... I don't think I can bear tell my entire story right now. It's too much. This day has already been too much." Harry moved his hand to smooth down his fringe and then he placed his hands in his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "I stepped in front of a gun, not knowing what the hell I was thinking, and then it turns out that the guy who was about to shoot another guy is my missing father! I just…" he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "I need some time to clear my head. And I think that you could use that too." As he said the last he looked up at Bucky, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Okay," was what the found himself responding. "Take all the time you need. I'm not about to pretend that this will be easy. It won't be. I only know that I want to get to know you, Harry."

"Okay," his son responded with a nod. "I… I think I would like to get to know you too. We just have to move slow, yeah?"

"We'll take as much time as we need."

ooooo

Before he knew it he was on his feet, ready for battle; adrenaline pumping through his veins and muscles tensed. He didn't need a gun to kill someone; he knew several dozen ways to kill a man without needing a weapon.

When he realized what he was doing he stilled and took a series of shallow breaths through his nose. He wasn't the Soldier any more. He was Bucky Barnes and he didn't have to kill anyone, especially not late at night in Steve's quiet apartment. He was safe. They both were. And they were alive. He clenched and unclenched his metal hand, forcing himself to relax.

He had retreated to Steve's guest room after Lupin and Harry left. He had so much to think about and Harry, his son, was right about going slow. They needed it. They had the luxury of time. Or they should have and Bucky was prepared to take the risk it was of acting like everything was okay. If he was to live life he was not going to be afraid, but he would be more cautious and he would not let his guard down the way he had done. It had cost him Lily. It would not cost him Harry.

Still something had made him battle ready as he woke up and he tensed again as he heard something. Untangling from the sheet that was wrapped around his foot he moved to the door just as that  _something_  started to speak.

"I don't know how long you thought you would be able to keep it a secret Captain Rogers," a man was saying.

"I wasn't planning on keeping him a secret," Steve said calmly. "Sir," he added as an afterthought, making Bucky's lips twitch to a smile.

"But neither was you planning on informing us."

"I knew you would know. I've not forgotten that you have cameras everywhere. I would not be surprised if our confrontation was in the evening news."

"It would have been had we not interfered."

Bucky pushed the door slightly. It had not been shut so he did not need to open it; he only needed it to move enough so that he could see. He could see Steve's back and the way the light of the lamps made everything slightly yellow. Beyond his friend stood another man, an African-American in a black trench coat, his head bald and an eye patch over his left eye. The man was a soldier too. He could see it in the rigid tension of his back and the way he held his hands.

"Do you know how many people he has killed?" the man asked.

"No," Steve answered. "And I don't need to know. I know the man he is and there is a difference between him and the weapon he was forced to be."

"Can you trust that?"

"I trust him."

"Your word and your trust is not enough, Cap. Mr. Barnes, if you would join us."

Steve turned around and looked at him; there was resignation in his gaze.

Bucky knew that he had been spotted, and he needed to play nice. He wasn't the soldier.  _He wasn't._  He pushed the door so that it slid open all the way and stepped out into the living room.

"I am Director Nick Fury with SHIELD."

He nodded.

"We cannot trust you."

He nodded again. He could understand it.

"For security reasons we need to keep you under surveillance and it would be much easier if you would consider coming with me. We would evaluate you; make sure that you will remain you as long as you are not in contact with the people using you again. And we can make sure that they don't get close to you."

"Easier," he said. "Yes, I could make this very difficult."

Fury took two steps forward. "We know that. But you are acting like a man with a mind again, and I'm addressing you as such. Give us time and we will give you the chance to atone."

"What makes you believe I would want that?"

"We know who you were before. We know that Captain Rogers have welcomed you back with open arms."

"I'll do as you say."

"Good," Fury did not smile, but he looked pleased all the same.

"On one condition," Bucky continued.

Fury looked at him levelly until he let up.

"I don't want you to touch Harry."

"Mr. Potter has nothing to fear from us. We do not get involved with magic."

"Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 17th May 2014
> 
> Last chapter you guys proved to be a blood thirsty bunch. A lot of reviewers said that they wanted Bucky to revert back to his Winter Soldier persona and torture/kill the Dursleys. Sorry to disappoint, but for all that I dislike the Dursleys I don't hate them that much. Some of you were concerned for them too I might add, thinking that not even they deserve to be visited by the soldier. We'll see what happens later on in the story.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	8. Chapter 8

SHIELD placed him in Washington DC, in a huge building, known as the Triskelion, which functioned as their Head Quarters. It was top secure, or well, as secure as any building of such glaring renown could be. Having the world know where you are doesn't make a place secure, especially not smack in the middle of one of the United States' most important cities. Nevertheless Bucky knew that it would take some real ingenuity to escape and that was enough to warrant respect in his books. He might have come willingly, but as he was marched through the corridors his mind couldn't help marking potential escape routes, calculating where he could go to draw the least attention, paying attention to monitoring and how guards moved and were they were placed.

They had flown him there that very night, not caring for any ceremony nor giving him a chance to tell anyone that it had happened, but it didn't matter, because he wasn't extradited. Steve had come with him. He had refused to leave Bucky alone now, so soon after they had been reunited. He wouldn't stand for leaving Bucky to face the people of SHIELD on his own, telling them in no uncertain terms that he knew what they could be like and he would keep an eye on proceedings to make sure that they did not overstep any boundaries, actual legal ones or moral lines.

Both of them disappearing still left the question of how to tell Harry and Lupin what had happened and what the two wizards would make of it. It had been decided that they would return to Steve's apartment the following day and no contact information had been exchanged. It would have been moot in any case as the wizards barely used conventional means of communication. What Steve and Bucky had ended up doing, while Director Fury glared suspiciously at them, was to leave a note clearly visible on the kitchen table, counting on that Harry and Lupin would be able to get to it and take proper action from there.

There was no guarantee that Harry would be able to follow them to Washington, he was still in school, but Bucky hoped he would. He wanted a chance to get to know Harry, and he privately hoped that the contact with his son would make resuming a  _normal life_  easier. He knew that things had been too easy thus far. The way his memory had snapped back; there wasn't a single normal or indeed comforting thing about it.

The last time he had come free of  _his master's_ influence,  _being free of them_  was the only thing that had actually happened. He hadn't regained any memories, only vague feelings of what life ought to be like. The sharp memories he had, had were only memories of his life as the  _soldier_  and only recent ones at that _._

His relationship with Lily was what had kept him sane, or as sane as a man with his background could be. In retrospect it was incomprehensible why she had been so patient with him. She had never demanded more of him than he was able to give. At times he hadn't felt like it was much, but in return he had made certain that he did give absolutely everything he could without ever holding back, making completely sure that not a single day passed without her knowing how much he loved and cherished her.

It was wrong that Harry had never known that same dedication and love from either of his parents. It was because he wanted to change that, that he so readily agreed when SHIELD came a knocking. He could have put up a fight if wanted to, he could have been gone before they knew any better, with every agent surrounding the apartment complex dead or injured, Steve included, and that was with them having the edge. He knew how good he was.

But he didn't want to do that. He had never wanted to be an assassin, a finely tuned weapon to be pointed at a target at the whim of a cold-hearted faceless organization. He had been a sergeant in the US military, and he had been proud of it. This was his chance to be on the right side again and do something to atone for all that his body had been used for, as Fury so aptly had pointed out. He might not be directly responsible for the killings, still he felt like it. All that blood was on his hands. It would never wash off. He would have to live with it, and doing something to protect the country he had been born to might allow him to do so.

His decision was also connected to concern for his son. He didn't know if he was safe to be around. He didn't want Harry to be in danger because there was a risk that his mind might snap back to become an unfeeling assassin again. This worry was genuine following the way he had regained his memories. He compared it again to the way he had regained a life the last time. The process had been gradual, it was possible to track his changing mentality, allowing him to adapt to the new found morality. This was new and uncertain. If simply seeing a pair of eyes reminding him of the past could put all of his memories at the forefront of his mind, who knew if some similar stimuli could reverse the process. It was a risk he wasn't willing to take, not when Harry was concerned.

Once the tests began however he started to regret his decision. They put him in isolation. They wanted to know how long his mind could take it without snapping. It was torture. He had no stimulation at all. The room was small, and round. He would pace around it with his hand on the wall and never know when he had reached his starting point. It was completely dark and quiet. When he spoke the sound was muffled, as if absorbed by his surroundings. All he had were his thoughts and those were dark.

For the longest time he got no water or food and no way to relieve himself. But he didn't snap. The discomfort he could handle, and he had a light at the end of his tunnel. Harry and Steve, who ended up literally being the light at the end of the tunnel.

ooooo

Steve was punching a boxing bag, imagining that it had Fury's face. He knew that he was not in agreement with everything the Director did or wanted, this new time was too different from the one he had known and a different type of people were needed. Upfront, and direct was no longer the way wars were fought, he had been told. It was all about control, and terror. Having the biggest gun to intimidate, but not having to use them, because if they were used that would be the end of the world as they knew it.

So yes, he had expected a few disagreements, but the development when Bucky was concerned was not something he had taken into account. He had been told that he was not allowed to know what was going on. And he didn't know. He had gotten low enough to call Stark, to ask him to hack their systems when Fury wouldn't let up what was going on. If he ever needed a clue that it was something he wouldn't like it was that. The worst bit was that Stark hadn't been able to find anything. He'd said that they must be keeping all information on Bucky on a separate system, and unless they knew where that system was located, they wouldn't be able to access the information. The man had offered to do something about it, but Steve had reclined. He did not want to go into open conflict with SHIELD just yet.

That however was about to change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 30th June 2014
> 
> Short chapter, long overdue. But that's what this story is like. I hope you enjoyed this little titbit and I'll try to have more for you soon.
> 
> [Last edited October 2015]


	9. Chapter 9

A light at the end of the tunnel. It was promised, but the tunnel is long.

The names of the people who had changed everything were a mantra in his head.

_Harry. Lily. Steve._

_Steve. Lily. Harry._

For the longest of times they kept the darkness at bay. For the longest of times spring made entry into his life. He was resilient. The people who'd experimented had seen to that. Their experimentations had made him strong. Had made his body strong and his mind… well, his mind was another thing. It was sharp. They needed it to be sharp. It had been enhanced along with the rest of him. But they'd also stolen his identity from him. Steeling his memories each and every time he was put on ice. Abuse like that left traces.

A normal man would start to hallucinate when robbed of stimuli for long enough. It didn't take much longer for Bucky. His visions were of Steve and Harry and Lily. The images, the voices... It made him increasingly convinced that all of it were figments of imagination. It wasn't real. Had never been real.

He'd had dreams when he was put on ice too. Dreams like this. That was all they were. Dreams. None of it was real. He was back in a small coffin like space. In the dark and cold, dreaming.

His assumption that none of it had been real was proven true, as another assumption was proven false.

Faceless, nameless. The people who controlled him, who pointed him at his target were faceless and nameless. They were masks without eyes in his memories. Only they weren't in reality. His memory was faulty until need arose. When he opened his eyes to glaring light he knew who he was seeing. He knew Alexander Pierce.

"Let's put you to work," the man said, smiling genially, while his eyes remained cold, like chips of ice.

ooooo

It was familiar. Some might have called it comforting. The soldier didn't feel comfort. He didn't feel much at all. But it _was_ familiar and that meant that he was good at it. There were the smells. Oil. Metal. Leather. Sweat. The sensations. Gear on his body. Boots of sturdy material. A fingerless glove for best sensitivity. The press of the goggles over his eyes. The weight of guns at his belt. It was as right as anything in his world could be.

The environment was familiar too. It wasn't a place he'd ever been before, but a military base was a military base no matter where in the world it was located. The fear in the people around him was familiar too. They knew how easily their lives could be ended at his hands and behaved accordingly. It didn't matter. He had no orders to exterminate them. He belonged here, didn't he?

"Yes, you do." So he had said that out loud? Well, he had gotten his answer. Believing in the words was easy. It felt right. Normal. Uncomplicated. Instinctual, same as breathing. The hand obeys the head. Trusts in it to guide. Willingly makes a fist.

"Sending you there was a mistake," the man said. Alexander Pierce. The man had all the right code words. That's what mattered. It didn't matter that the man was putting up a front of not being afraid while in truth he was. The control was fragile. Could be broken easily. As easily as a body. Luckily for Pierce he had no desire for breaking.

"We got a bit too enthusiastic," the man continued. "Not cautious enough. In this time of marvels it's easy to forget all the details. The Captain was not a suitable target for you, not after so long on your own. It should be okay now, but we will not test it so soon. The boy is still an enigma. We know of him now, but we don't know enough. Still we won't make the same mistake again. For each head cut, we come back stronger," he sighed, betraying his confidence as the Soldier had known he would. Again it didn't matter. "Are you ready for your next mission?"

He nodded. Words weren't needed. Not wanted. Superfluous. Not much in this world was needed. It only was.

"Nick Fury. Eliminate. Discreetly if possible. If not possible, by any means necessary." He was given a picture. A file full of information. He got to hear a recording of the target's voice. He had his tools. He had his mission.

ooooo

Sleep was difficult. Too many thoughts were on his mind. Gnawing at it endlessly. Fury was hiding something from him, Steve knew that. He was getting fed up with it. More than once he'd debated taking Stark up on his offer of doing some hands on digging. His hand had hovered over the call button on the fancy phone he had. Yet he had not pressed dial.

He felt obliged to do something for Harry's sake. Over the last two months he'd kept in contact with Bucky's son, slowly getting to know him. They'd bonded over the lack of news. Bonded over their frustration. As well as a mutual ideology where it concerned people's right to live freely, without oppression and intrusive surveillance.

Harry had returned to England when his school trip came to an end. It had taken some convincing to make him do so. Steve felt certain that were it not for Lupin it wouldn't have worked. Each time he talked with Harry he had to deliver the same news. The lack of news. And he had to give a promise. A promise that said that as soon as something happened he'd call.

They never got to talk as much as Steve would have liked though, and certainly not as regularly. He wasn't sure who Fury thought he was fooling. Sending him on missions again and again to distract him. It worked in the moment. He was forced to be in the moment and not question what was happening with Bucky, but during the down time he couldn't escape the worrying.

When someone broke into his Washington apartment late at night, he got even more to worry about.

ooooo

Nicholas Fury was not an easy target. He'd eliminated difficult targets before. All that was different between an easy target and a more well protected and prepared one was the time it took to accomplish the task, and sometimes even time wasn't a factor. Luck could play in and make a mission that on paper looked like no one could do, easy. As soon as he started digging into Fury, the Soldier knew that it would take time without luck.

In the end it had taken time and luck both. He'd only misjudged on how much luck was necessary without more time being added to the calculation.

He'd approached in the shadows. A part of them. As silent and dark. He'd shot to kill. He shouldn't have missed. He shouldn't have been noticed either. One of the two things had happened and his target had made an attempt at escaping.

Following after was easy. The trail of blood only made it more so. Made it like a storybook quest. Connecting the dots. It was the place of refuge which made him stop. He'd been ordered not to go there unless he'd been at the base within the last twenty-four hours. It had been more like sixty-four. Only a few hours until he would have to return. Yet for those hours he would have to wait. _Discreetly_ was still an option this night.

Standing in the darkness he waited. Unseen and unheard. He might just as well not have been there. The neighbourhood was quiet. The people who lived there were middle class. Hardworking. Thinking themselves superior. What did imagined superiority matter when they were all going to die soon? One year. Fifty. Soon either way. Soon everyone would be dead. Only the masters would last, one replacing the other. Forever.

A figure looked out of the window on the floor where his targets was hiding. Male. 6"2. He would have smirked did a gesture like that come to him, when the man opened the window. Luck it seemed had not run out yet.

ooooo

"You soundproofed my windows, but couldn't keep HYDRA out of SHIELD?" Steve asked sardonically.

"They'd been festering in there for years," Fury defended tonelessly.

"How long have you known?"

"Not long enough. Not well enough. I wouldn't have placed him in the Triskelion otherwise."

Him. Bucky. HYDRA had gotten to Bucky. HYDRA had been responsible for him all along and SHIELD had delivered him right back into their clawed hands.

"You have a lot to answer for," he stated.

"And I will. Once this situation is dealt with. Now I want you to open that window. A few words might lead your friend in the right direction."

Steve did as told. Hoping that the Director would be right. He felt like he was sleepwalking. Moving through tar all the way to the window. Looking out through the glass he couldn't see anything. Couldn't see the phantom that stalked the night. But he knew Bucky was out there. Hidden inside the monster that was the Winter Soldier. Natasha had told him enough for him to be afraid. He didn't want to fight Bucky, but he might not have a choice. He might have to use lethal force. What would he tell Harry if it came to that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 22nd October 2015
> 
> Sometimes inspiration dwindles. Sometimes it comes back. It came back. Hope it sticks around now. Let me know what you thought and thanks for reading.
> 
> [Last Edit February 2016]


	10. Chapter 10

"I miss my friend," the man in the window said. He sounded like he meant it. A sad note to the timbre of his voice. There was something more to that voice and the sadness in it. He couldn't put his finger on it.

"What would you tell him if he was here now?" Fury. What were they babbling about? They knew he was there. They must suspect it. Why would they talk about something so inane?

"I would tell him that all the time in the world couldn't separate us. Actions couldn't either. Friendship is about acceptance, not blame."

It could be a stalling technique. A bad one if so. It didn't matter. Soon one of those men would be dead. Possibly both of them. He would listen, see if they would say anything that could interest Pierce. Many things interested Pierce, better to tell him everything than try to select it.

"I'd tell him to think for himself. I'd tell him that orders aren't everything. I'd remind him that he has a son, a son who desperately wants to get to know him."

He twitched. His fingers that were still of flesh and bone clenching. A kid? Kids always complicated things. He didn't like hurting children. Their parents were bad enough. The adults usually had it coming, he didn't care about them. Their children hadn't lived long enough to deserve a visit from him though and the emotional scarring from losing a parents, sometimes right before their eyes... it… it wasn't right.

If the boy was around he'd head back for the base, taking a long route to make the time pass so that he arrived when he was ordered to. Deciding that he would leave rather than unnecessarily harm a child relaxed the rising tension in his muscles. The very momentary distraction falling away, leaving sharp focus.

"I'd repeat those words until they got through his thick skull. Chanting the names of his dead wife and son if need be."

"What were their names?" Fury again. Prompting the man by the window when the silence grew prolonged. "Steve?"

"Their names are Lily and Harry."

 _Steve_. _Lily_ and _Harry_

He twitched again. Why did the names make him react? Why did they elicit an ache in his body? His solar plexus felt tight. Cramped. Breathing was difficult. Why did hearing the names make him want to run? He could run up the wall. Jump into the window. Confront the man who'd said the names. Demand to know what they meant. He shifted his weight.

The watch on his person that counted down the hours beeped, insisting on his immediate attention and breaking the spell. He clicked on the number. 69. Three hours to go. Plenty of time to complete the mission. If only... It would have been done already were it not for the order to stay away from that apartment. Why was he ordered away from this place anyway? What was the point? Did it fit together with the lingering ache in his chest? He rubbed at it with his metal hand. It made no difference.

_Don't question it! Just do. Wait silently. Observe. The mission is all that matters._

"Harry's a good kid, or a good man perhaps I should say," the man rambled on. More emotional while the Soldier closed himself off. "I never met Lily myself, but all I've heard about her makes her sound like a wonderful person and I'm more grateful to her than I imagined I could be to someone. I've been told what she meant for my friend, what others could see when the two of them were together. Lily was good to him. They were good for each other. I wish I could have seen that."

"Perhaps you never will, but the father and son can be re-united and that you can witness."

"I certainly hope so. If only I could see how."

There was a silence. A silence that felt disapproving. "Close the window, it's getting a bit chilly. Winter seems to be coming early this year."

"I rather it didn't come at all, but I'll face it." The man, _Steve_ , closed the window. Had they been making fun of him? Challenging him? His codename was the Winter Soldier. If it was a challenge he would answer. If only he hadn't been told to stay out of that apartment. _Steve_ has said that orders weren't everything. Perhaps they weren't.

ooooo

"What was that about, Fury?" Steve asked. Speaking like that, out into the night, wondering if Bucky could hear him had made him feel silly and determined at the same time. It was a conflicting set of emotions, not helped by the silly codewords Fury had decided on.

"We don't know exactly what triggered his memory in New York. I thought we'd try if names would be enough. If we could plant a seed in his mind he might stop himself, rather than forcing us to do it."

"Do you truly believe that? I've done my research on the Soldier. What Romanoff told me sounded more like horror stories than anything real and I know how good Bucky was. I wouldn't want to put the lives of civilians on the line with a mere guess as an excuse when the public demand answers after something goes wrong."

"Civilians are hardly at risk from the Soldier. He has a target. He goes for the target, no one else. And he doesn't miss." With those words the Director of SHIELD pointed to a bullet hole in his coat. It was a large rip in the leather, right over his heart. "Luckily for me, I have something sturdier underneath, technology that isn't public. Neither he nor the people using him could have known of it, which is the sole reason I'm still alive." He rapped his knuckles against the spot that was revealed by the tear. A strange, muted, metallic sound followed.

"Then let's keep it that way." Steve walked to where he kept his shield, grabbed it and was down the stairs before Fury could get a chance to protest. He was going to confront his friend. Leaving things be and hoping for the best wasn't the way to get Bucky back. He didn't want to fight, but he'd sat back for too long already. He'd lost his friend once because of inaction. He wouldn't let it happen again. He had promised Harry to call as soon as something happened. When he called he would have good news.

ooooo

The Soldier had reviewed his memory, had forced it open, had seen target details that Pierce had been hesitant to show him. The owner of the apartment, _Steve,_ was none other than Captain America. A war hero from times past. A national monument made into a human being. A symbol for everything the United States of America wanted to be. Strong. Honest. Free. He was a man who would actually be a challenge for him if not taken by surprise. The element of surprise was already lost. He had concluded that this was the reason for the prohibition against entering the apartment three floors up. They didn't want to risk involving the Captain. Perhaps they wanted the national symbol alive. It wasn't his job to question. It was his job to act on orders and deal with them however needed. He could always fall back on _If not possible, by any means necessary._ It gave him some leeway to decide. His rational mind was still hedging at what was possible. Planning was possible. Coming out on top was possible. Waiting was possible.

No. Observed. Waiting no longer possible. The Captain had taken the first step. He was out on the street now. Shield held at the ready. Eyes scanning his surroundings. He would be discovered momentarily.

Escape or engage. Flee or agree to the challenge. That was what he had to chose between. It wasn't a difficult decision. He moved.

ooooo

Harry knew he shouldn't bother Steve with another phone call. It was night as much in Washington as it was in Scotland. He'd woken up from a dream. Not a nightmare though. Probably. He couldn't remember what it was about. He only knew that it'd made him think of his father and Steve.

Ever since he left the United States he'd felt as if he'd made a mistake. A big one. Remus and Hermione had both been at him, convincing him that his education was important. He'd only relented after learning full well that his father would be kept from him for the foreseeable future. There was no use in him sitting in Washington waiting when he could as well do the waiting at Hogwarts.

Talking to Steve helped. If his father was anything like what Steve described, or anything like Steve himself, Harry would be happy. The great Captain America, an idol so large that even some wizards knew of him, was more than a hero. He was a person. A person Harry was coming to like. The man was dependable, honest and upfront. That he was unreachable from time to time did nothing to diminish the impression. Harry had discovered that he needed someone like that in his life.

When Voldemort was dead and Remus remained standing, he'd tried to become closer to the man. Much of what they'd built over the summer months had crumbled as the truth about his father got out. Harry didn't want to feel betrayed. He didn't want to hate or even dislike Remus. Being angry and carrying around dark emotions was draining and unproductive. He wanted his life to be different. He wanted to forgive and move on. It wasn't as easy as that. Not even with magic.

He'd yelled that first night in New York and not a single time since. He'd concentrated on asking Remus to tell him what he did know of his parents rather than why he hadn't said anything before. These story sessions had grown less frequent and now he only saw the man in class.

As if all of that wasn't enough, the news that his father was a muggle had made its way into the Daily Prophet. An onslaught of letters had followed. Howlers that screamed out in rage, exploding when not attended to. Also a few sympathetic letters.

And then another letter. A letter that he had yet to tell Steve about. He knew that he should. He wanted to. He wanted to tell anyone about it. Hermione. Ron. Remus. McGonagall. He'd settle for one of the paintings. But he couldn't. There was a compulsion on it, holding his silence. It has passed through the careful inspection all his mail went through before he received it. Once he discovered that he couldn't speak about it he had therefore despaired. Giving the sender too much credit. He'd found one loop hole. The compulsion didn't stop him from researching a way to break it. He had to break it. The taunting watermark at the top of the page told him as much. A scull and six curling tentacles. HYDRA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN 31st October 2015
> 
> This update came a bit quicker, just over a week. I'm pleased with that. I hope you're pleased too, with the speed and with the content of the chapter. Let me know your thoughts and thanks for reading!
> 
> [Last Edited February 2016]


End file.
